To the Peak and Back

Well, of course there was some gratifying morning sex here at our little Mountain Hideaway on Wednesday. I recall Mistress grappling for my cock after I had feasted on her, the laptop set aside now, and her compliment.

“Oh goody. The morning cock.”

You may know the type, hard and eager without much encouragement. Mistress shouldn’t have to work to hard for that effect should she?

But the real story today is a little travelogue about Mistress and our 2nd sullen teen – almost 18 now – who had an excellent adventure worth documenting here.

At our Ski Mountain, the most dramatic run is not “lift served”. No, you need to hike there, toting skis, or board. It’s a long and demanding climb. The locals with their well acclimated lungs and hard bodies can do it in 45 minutes or so. But for flatlanders like us – schedule at least 90 minutes if you are lucky.

The hike stretches across a long narrow ridgeline with amazing views across this wild and beautiful state and north to another. (the picture at the top gives you a good sense of the trail, which starts on the left and extends to the very top, maybe 1.5 miles).

And as the final destination seems to get tantalizingly closer, the trail gets steeper, narrower and dicier. Sometimes you can be plowing forward through knee deep snow, grateful for the footprints of those that preceded you. Other times, like yesterday, the snow is thin and your stiff and heavy ski boots are slipping and sliding on loose rock and ice.

But what awaits is a long and challening run over barely tracked snow down a dramatic slope until you finally arrive to the more routine runs where the mere mortal skiers have been looking up at you in wonder.

Now Molly and Mick have done this hike in years past. But it’s been a few years for me. Quite frankly, in my 60 year old decrepitude, it’s a tough physical challenge that I can happily forego – been there, done that – even though I do miss that sense of accomplishment when the run is over, and the views along the way.

So when our teen said this week “I want to go to the peak”, I was a little reluctant. Quite frankly, I didn’t think she knew what awaited or had the mettle to stick it through. And believe me, there comes a point on that hike when your body says “no mas”, but, quite literally, you can’t turn back.

I was not into seeing her hit that point and having to deal with the consequences.

But then Mistress stepped in.

“I’ll go with you…..”

I raised an eyebrow. Quietly lobbied against the risk. But they were undeterred.

So off they went.



Gutsy and determined.

And I got to watch them take their turns down that wide, steep slope, slowly but surely, about two hours after they headed up that narrow trail with a bunch of other hardcore skiers following behind.

The teen made it first, on her snow board, collapsing onto her back on the snow next to me.

“I’m really not that tired. It was just hard on my lungs sometimes….”

Uhh, yeah. At 12,500 feet, climbing up. It’s a killer.


Mistress made it down a few minutes later, a broad smile on that beautiful face.

“My legs are like rubber, Slave.”

No doubt.

So here is to Mistress and our sullen but adventurous teen. I am proud of both of them.

Slave Gets A Wake Up Call

With a little less time on the slopes this week (due to our later start time), Molly and Mick have made sure there is a little more time for R and R.

Yesterday morning, I cleverly manipulated Mistress to have me deploy my aneros, after she read the daily blog about such activities going “mainstream”.

I had been slurping away at her succulent folds as she read, both the blog and the related Salon article, pausing for occasional comments.

“Did you like the way that guy offered to bend over for the reporter, to aid in her ”research””.

“Pretty funny, Slave… now why don’t you go put in your device….”

“Of course, Mistress….”

I lubed up the little sucker and drove it home, then rejoined Mistress in bed.  My cock was already feeling the effect.

After making sure Mistress had her “starter” cum, courtesy of my lips and tongue, I was more than ready to take my own pleasure. But before granting me permission, Mistress made sure that I was suitably firm, groping down below with her fingers.

“Nice, Slave….. and , yes, you may now fuck me.”

Maybe it was a good night’s sleep, combined with the little probe, but I seemed particularly anxious to get “there” …. Maybe a little too anxious.  Soon I found myself perilously close to the edge, though I had not delivered Mistress the additional orgasm or two that she has come to expect, or asked for permission…

Yow….. “code red”….I pulled back, just in time…..

“What was that about, Slave…..”

She’s not using to my cock going MIA in the midst of the action.

“Sorry…. Got a little too … close ….Mistress……”

Had I reverted to adolescence or something?  We both laughed.  And the laughter helped bring me back away from the edge of the cliff, allowing me to resume normal programming.

I made sure Mistress was suitably pleasured then, before asking for permission. And when permission was granted…. Well let’s just say that the deferred expectations made the reward all the more compelling.  I collapsed in a sweaty heap next to her.

We had a lovely day on the mountain with the teens. A cloudless sky required plenty of sunscreen. And by the time we came back, my legs were dead and my body needed a little rest. 

After handling some pesky work matters, we found ourselves in bed, snuggled up and dozing off before it was time to fix dinner.

But after about 40 minutes or so of shut-eye, I was awakened by a Mistress who knew what she wanted.

She rolled onto me, with a little sigh of desire.

“I want my cock now Slave….”

Who was I to say “no”, when duty calls.

Still a bit groggy, I just laid back as Mistress slowly and deliberately ground her needy cunt against me, until I began to respond, firming up suitably.  Getting more and more, “in the mood”.

“I hope you don’t mind me just rubbing against you like this Slave….”

“Of course not…. But I suspect my cock would feel ever so cozy inside you right now, Mistress.”

She kept grinding.

I kept getting harder.

“All in good time, Slave….”

Fortunately, Mistress must have felt the need for something more “filling”.

She slid, adjusted, handled me, and was soon taking my cock for a long, hard ride.

Ahhh.

She took   her time, letting herself build up to one of those moaning, groaning comes that leaves her face all mottled, chest heaving, eyes squeezed shut, off in her own world of lust.

Rolling off me, she had one more demand.

“Fuck me now, Slave….”

Mainstream Media Coming From Behind.

Mistress, her Slave and the two sullen teens have gotten into a comfy groove here at our mountain hideaway.

While we very much enjoy the time the two of us get to spend here together, we realize this may be the last “spring break” we will share for some time with the teens, after about 12 springs in a row together here.

They’ve grown from cute little ski bunnies, working on craft projects acquired at the local WalMart, to the sullen and cranky semi-adults which they’ve become, buried in their technology, and barely grunting their acknowledgment when we try to engage them. One will be heading to college in the fall. The other seems headed to a year of study abroad.

So it seems our days of close quarters parenting are rushing to an unexpected and sudden end.

The horror.

My adoptive skills are relatively advanced though, so unlike springs past when I would play the drill sergeant, hustling all of us into our ski costumes and up the mountain by 9 or so, in time for lessons, or to beat the “crowds” to fresh fallen snow, I have adopted a much more passive approach to scheduling.

(Of course, this is also in deference to Mistress, who had been known to enjoy a little extra time in the sack too.)

So this week, we’ve been heading up the mountain at the shockingly late time of 10:30 am, with no forced quota for the number of runs expected either by lunch time or the end of the day.

This more leisurely pace seems to have improved everyone’s mood.

The later departure time also gives Slave some extra time in the am for blogging, staying in touch with work, and also tending to Mistress’s needs.

Yesterday, after I had prepared the blog, answered some work emails, and caught up on world news, I did stumble on an intriguing article in Salon, linked here, entitled, Bringing Up the Rear, which in light and frothy pop journalistic style describes how heterosexual males are enjoying the pleasures of anal penetration with increasing frequency these days.

The article is “packed full” with cute little stories of lads about town describing how their girl friends have introduced various probes and strap-ons to deepen their sexual fun.

And sure enough, the girls like it too!

So, folks, yet another “taboo”, seems to be falling by the way side, blurring the difference between our little, dark sex blog world and what might be called the “lame stream” sexual habits of “normal” folks. The next thing you know, blurry photos of a former governor all harnessed up and putting it to her “first dude” will pop up on the internet, as she bids for a little more “street cred” in advance of 2012.

Of course, the allure of this sort of play has been a feature of this blog from the beginning. We started with our little Aneros, which I tucked into my kit for this trip. And then, two Valentine Day’s ago, before this blog began, Mistress put her strap-on to use for the first time.

I believe it helped adjust my attitude and hers, taking us one step closer to our infamous Contract.

Of course, we aren’t the only ones in our little community dabbling in this territory.

Our WC has been known to enjoy it when his wife B straps on the harness and takes it to him.

And, of course, Suzanne frequently takes her “wife’ Tammy that way, in the “diaper” position.

(Mick is way too ancient and inflexible to handle that approach, BTW).
 

Earlier this week, Ms. Marie had a very educational product review, brought to you by EdenFantasies.com, which described newer, hi-tech approaches to this age old “problem”. It may be only a matter of time before the folks at “Snap-On Tools” get into this emerging market.

It does make me wonder how Bill, our Director of Security - International feels about missing out on this action. Maybe Donna can engineer a way for him to be part of this new and oh so hip movement.

Now, dear readers, all this talk has Mick ready to see if Mistress is ready to wake up, and tell me to go “insert my device.”

Mistress Stands. Slave Delivers.

After missing our last switch day based on my general lameness, I figured Mistress was due for some “special treatment”. With much applause from the sullen teens, I even delayed our departure time for the mountain until 10:30 am,  to assure that there was ample time for the plot to develop in our charming little bedroom here in the great southwest.

So after Mistress had an opportunity to read the blog – with my tongue firmly planted between her thighs as tradition dictates – I told her it was time to face the music.

Some rope was used to bind her wrists together in front.

Then I pulled on the long lead I had left myself, indicating it was time to get out of bed and go for a little walk.

“But Slave… it’s chilly, I’ll get so cold….”

Yeah. The usual whining. Actually the morning sun was shining through the window, warming us nicely. Mistress was not in peril of any goose bumps, let alone  frozen nipples.

I brandished some rather cruel nipple clips we have here, with big dangling rings, just to make my point.

“Do I need to get these out Mistress?”

“Ohhh, God…. Not those.”

“Then come along….”

She co-operated now, fearing for her dainty little buds, and I positioned her under the ring I installed last summer in one of the pine hand carved vegas that cross our low ceiling.

Her arms were raised. The rope was run through the ring, then tied off.

Mistress was going no where.

Her little silk nightie – one I’d gotten for her some holiday past – just grazed her firm ass.  I took the time to snap a few photos form various angles, with Mistress having the right of approval before posting, of course.

Then I grabbed the riding crop which we had tucked into our closet to keep from the prying eyes of house guests.

I also made sure the radio was on – some early Sunday jazz – so that the teens would not be shocked at their parents’ antics.

The first slap of the crop seemed to catch Mistress by surprise.

“Owww…. That hurt Slave….”

It was followed by a few more…..I enjoyed seeing Mistress hop and squirm tethered to the ceiling, up on her toes a bit…. her little “happy dance” was quite delightful.

“Did you miss your switch day last Sunday, Mistress?”

“I did Slave….”

“You seemed to enjoy your little date with M yesterday, Mistress.  I bet you’d like him doing these things to you here, wouldn’t you.”

“Would you like it, Slave?”

She got a sharp slap with the crop for avoiding my question.

“Ohhhh…..”

“Of course I would, but that wasn’t the question, was it Mistress?”

There is nothing like interrogating a bound Mistress with a riding crop at your disposal.

“You know I would Slave.”

At about this time I slid myself up behind Mistress. Reaching around her for a handful of breast .

“I think you’re enjoying this, Slave.”

No doubt she could feel my thickening cock poking from the folds of the blue robe I was wearing.

“Absolutely, Mistress…”

My right hand dipped between her thighs, sliding through those silky, sopping, clean shaven folds.

“And it seems you are too…..”

After stepping back and giving her just a few more slices with the crop, I remarked on how nice and red her bottom had become.  My fingers caressed the little red marks. They would fade soon enough, but it was nice to feel how warm her ass was, as it shifted wantonly against my soothing fingers.

I stepped back again, and pulled the power tool from the its little hideaway, unwinding the extension cord.  Mistress could not tell exactly what I was doing, until she heard the Hitachi “hmmmm” to life.

I embraced her standing body from behind, my cock poking a bit into her ass cheeks, and reached around her with the magic wand.  I could almost feel her body melt as the soft white bulb pressed home against her, her thighs spreading as best they could to accommodate it.

“Now remember, Mistress, you need to ask permission to come.”

The little slut must have been fully primed, because it seemed it was only a minute or so later that she was begging for leave. And I was a pushover – as usual – and gave my consent.

That sent her into some nice shuddering convulsions that had her hanging from her wrist bindings, head dropped down, moaning ever so deliciously.

And by then I was more than ready to join the fun.

So I released her bound wrists from the little ring, and pulled her back to the bed.

Her wrists were still tied, and I pushed them over her head as I took my reward, sliding into her.

Of course, I made sure Mistress came at least one more time before I was the one asking for permission.

As we rested in each others arms afterwards, still with some time before our skis would meet the fresh snow that had fallen overnight, I asked Mistress if I had made up for our missing switch day.

“Of course Slave…. But you scared me with those nipple clips.”

“Maybe next Sunday, Mistress….”

Staff Support Comes Through

Molly, Mick and the two dommes in training made it to our little mountain hideaway very early on Saturday morning. Maybe around 3 am, mountain time. Of course, the teens reminded me that that was really 5 am “their time”, in their effort to lobby for a very late start up to the ski mountain on What was already Saturday.

And Slave was fine with that. I was in no hurray and knew that there were other needs to tend to in our cozy bed before the skis were loaded up.

So it was the unusual morning when Slave slept until the sun was peeking up over the mountain, lighting our cozy room, giving the woodwork a rosy glow.

Naturally, I was grateful for Donna filling in for me yesterday, which allowed me to tend to Mistress’s needs when she was ready to wake up and receive my attention.

As I attended to her glistening folds with my tongue, Mistress read Donna’s posting, and then I urged her to check out All Mine and the lengthy commentary from the WC. If you haven’t read it, you need to catch the link, here. (The WC's contribution appears in the comments section.)

It amounts to a clever supplement to his infamous tutorial on taking a virgin ass, describing how one explains the planned event to get medical clearance from her physician.

Mistress was amused. Sort of.

“Slave, I think WC’s writing more on Suzanne’s blog than ours these days.”

“Maybe we need to formalize this job sharing arrangement, Mistress. Though I doubt Suzanne want to pick up a piece of M’s lavish expense account.”

But soon the computer was set aside, and Mistress was enjoying her first mountain zone orgasm of our Spring Break with the teens. She knew I was still rather tired from that long trip and short sleep, so she pushed me onto my back.

“Let me suck my cock, Slave….”

I was more than happy to take her lead, and enjoyed her warm and tender lips surrounding my growing shaft. Soon she had me begging to fuck her, and she was generous in granting my wish.

Ultimately, we made our fashionably late appearance on the mountain. The snow is getting a little thin, but the sun was glorious. After lunch, Mistress and Surly #1 adjourned to some lounge chairs, stripping to their sports bras, which I suspect earned them some admiring glances.

I took a few more runs with the other teen, who is a Boarder.

By 4 pm we were all back to our cabin, and I was crashing.

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave, Mistress queried, as closed the door to our room for the traditional après ski “nap time”.

“I was thinking nap first, sex after if that’s OK, Mistress.”

“Of course it is Slave….”

But then the fates intervened. Or at least a text from our freelancing WC/PT of the CEO did.

“Hmmm…. He wants me to call Slave…. Would you mind?”

Well, who was I to mind…. I know my place, and simply asked if Mistress would like me to pull out her power tool, which had been tucked away since our last visit.

“I’m not sure it’s going to be that type of call, but then better be safe than sorry, Slave.”

I dug the Hitachi and it’s extension cord out of our closet, plugged it in for Mistress, and gave her a quick kiss as I pulled on my robe.

“I’ll just be out in the living room, Mistress. And will turn n the radio to protect you from prying ears.”

“Thank you, Slave.”

She had that little gleem in her eye, that said, “Hmmm, I may be about to get some….”

I closed the door behind me, settled onto the couch with the local paper, amusing myself for a while at the small town political hijinks, then must have dozed off.

Maybe 30 minutes later, Mistress pulled to door ajar, and whispered, “why don’t you come back to bed now Slave.”

I did, shedding the robe, snuggling up close to her.

“So how did it go, Mistress….”

“It was nice Slave…. We ended up having a little session….”

“How many Mistress?”

“Ohhh…. Two Slave…..”

“and what did he have you doing in your little imaginary adventure?”

“Sort of the usual…. Except he came into this room and made me suck his cock….”

“Ahhh…. I am sure you’d like that, Mistress.”

Knowing that Mistress’s afternoon needs had been properly handled by her personal trainer, I did not feel too guilty when I asked for permission to resume my nap.

“It’s OK, Slave…. I’m good.”

Indeed, she seemed ready for a nap too.

So while our Senior Correspondent picked up the slack for me on the blogging front yesterday, it was nice that the WC/PT was able to assume some of the “burden” of performing my other duties here as I bounced back from that long travel day.

I guess that’s the benefit of developing this deep and multi-skilled management team here at UCTMW.

From our Senior Correspondent ... "Players"

(Molly, Mick and the two surly teens are now parked at DFW airport, cooling our heals. We still have a flight to ABQ and a 3 hour drive to our mountain hideaway to look forward to.  But presuming we make it, we look forward to waking up to the beautiful mountain, the sun rising and lighting up our bedroom. When that happens the long trip will have been worthwhile.  Of course, Slave won't be in a state of mind for posting in the a.m.  There will be a Mistress to please, and then wrestling all that ski paraphenalia up the mountain for a day on the slopes.  So,  I asked our Senior Correspondent to pitch in.... and like the hard working over achiever that she is, she delivered.... have a good Saturday, all. And thank you, Donna.)

I tutored football players as a means of making ends meet while in college and one player, in particular, I dated more than a few times. He was a good looking hulk of a guy. One evening we went to a movie house and watched some dull and desperate film required for his humanities class. We shared a few brews followed by some kissy face and some hand wandering and, since I was still living in the dorm and had a prude as a roommate, a trip to his apartment. I was so jazzed, so anxious to experience this sexy looking man that I worked extra hard to ignore the stench from his dirty gym clothes strewn here and there and the stained jock strap on the kitchen counter. With firm resolve to scrub my entire body with Comet upon returning to my dorm, I leaned into Mr. Football and we began the dance of…something.

Have you ever seen birds copulate? If you blink, you’ll miss it. And, bless his heart, Rocco was the same way. I tried to get him to slow down, to let me help him a bit in this endeavor as I did in his academic subjects, but he only knew and wanted missionary position and as fast as he was on his feet on the football field, he was also that fast to the goal line in the bedroom. I was left with that old Peggy Lee song running through my head, Is That All There Is? Tilt! We tried again, repeatedly in fact, but the poor guy only knew that one pattern and wasn’t interested in trying anything new or even hearing about anything different. He passed his classes and I admit that I was not terribly saddened by his move to another city. 

Now before you write me off as a monster, let me assure you that if he had given me any inkling that he might be willing to let lovemaking be a team sport (for the two of us not the entire football team…although that might have had some merit, too) I would have been happy to continue dating him. But I knew I needed something that a sprinter couldn’t offer. And I couldn’t have been too cruel because he continued to call me from time to time hoping we could get back together, even the morning that Bill and I were married.

Bill and I have been friends since we were kids. My brother was his best friend so we were around one another a great deal as teenagers. Initially, of course, not together in a sexual way but as found we had a teasing streak in common and that we understood the undercurrents to one another’s jokes, things heated up. Even as young people Bill and I were good lovers. With plenty of foreplay and a bit of bondage we would begin building the mood and then shifting gears, we would kick it up and over into reckless abandon.  Adding in a few spanks and a bite or two from Bill and we were both headed over the edge! We didn’t know what it was really called (the kinky part) but we knew we both liked it and knew that is wasn’t all that common. Then, as often happens, we went our separate ways after high school, Bill toward the land of Hurricanes and me toward Gatorland.

By the time we found one another again a few years after college, we had both had enough sexual experiences to recognize that together we had something special not shared by many. Bill had developed his Dom nature and, while a tough cookie outside our home, my need to be submissive in the bedroom was clear to us both. We didn’t have much club experience, and the internet wasn’t available the way it is now, but for us it has always been about BDSM and love. I firmly believe that to leave out either component would have left both of us wanting and incomplete.

Every once in a while someone will ask me whether it has been boring being with the same man all these years. My answer is “Hell , No! When Bill mounts me from behind like the wild stallion that he is, it feels powerful and animalistic and it is a wonderful thing! As he reaches around to twist my nipples and pinch and swat my clit, I scream with that mix of pain and delight known only to the kinky.”

Of course, by that point whoever asked me that question is usually backward away…very slowly. 

Mistress Gets Tag Teamed

We had headed home a little early, with the hope of a bike ride. But the cold damp gray weather had returned. I used my still unshaken cold as an excuse.

“It’s 43 degrees, Mistress, and seems even colder. I think I will spare my throat and lungs, but feel free.”

Fortunately, she had the good judgment to join me instead, upstairs for a little pre-dinner rest time. I paged through the Times, she tinkered with her new Kindle, then I asked the question. It was hard not to notice she was down to that black lacy thong and a matching bra.

“Would you like some worship, Mistress?”

It had been since our morning sexual adventures, so I suspected she was in some degree of need.

“I thought you’d never ask, Slave.”

I slid out of bed, about to go to my knees, when the text message chime went off.

“Why don’t you check that for me, Slave.”

I peered at her little screen and chuckled.

“It the WC, Mistress, he says he’s driving home if you want to give him a call.”

He’s back from that little holiday, rested and ready it seems.

“But we’re about to have some worship, Slave….it can wait”

“No reason we can’t kill two birds with the same stone, Mistress.”

She signaled me to hand her the land line phone (yes, we are retro and still have one), and as she dialed him up, I was on my knees, shifting aside the shielding panel of that lovely thong.

Of course, I could only hear part of the conversation.

“So Slave was about to worship, but I thought I would give you a call anyway.”

Her hips shifted a it, allowing me to get a better angle on those clean shaven parts.

“No, it’s no problem, he’s just going ahead as we talk, M.”

As I went to work they chatted a bit about their respective days. Sounds like the WC had some catching up to do at the office, after some “epic” sex with B.

But soon, Mistress seemed a little more focused both on the words M was whispering in her ear, and my suctioning her little bud between my lips.

Her hips were rising to meet my mouth, her words had turned to little murmurs of approval, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut.

Soon she was writhing about the bed, making it barely possible to keep my oral grip on her…. In fact I think I resorted to holding her hips in place with my hands.

I was now grateful that I had turned on Brian Williams to stifle her cries from the curious ears of the surly teens, just down the hall.

“Wow….. that was good M…. and Slave too.”

They continued to talk, rotating back to the more mundane, our upcoming spring break with the kids, heading not too far from our Western branch office. A point that Mistress was happy to make.

“By tomorrow night we won’t be too far from you, M. It’s a shame you can’t just drop by.”

Of course, Slave ad not been dismissed, so after a brief hiatus, my tongue and lips were re-deployed, a point she mentioned to M.

“He’s still down there, M, working away, like a little suction cup.”

I think M must have gotten the hint, because now Mistress seemed to be more focused again, quietly assenting to whatever little scenario M had cooked up for her.

(Later she told me it involved some cock worship, followed by some nice fucking from behind, across M’s desk. It’s good to know the Branch Office gets put to good alternative use, since we’ve not seen many column inches from there in a while.)

And I refocused my efforts, inspired by Mistress’s sultry murmurs of consent to her own debauchery at the hand of her personal trainer.

Once she had cycled through yet another explosive cum, her foot gently pushed me away. She had enough, at least for now.

I took my place back in bed next to her as they chatted on. While they may have trouble squeezing in a formal training session while we are off on our own ski vacation with the teens, it is good to know that the WC is back at his desk, doing whatever it is that he does, but keeping Mistress entertained in the process.

Slave "Multi-Tasks"

It was certainly nice to have some quality material yesterday from Donna to tide us over here at UCTMW as I scrambled to cover for  the WC in the realm of keeping Mistress satisfied, while recovering from a cold and going about my normal duties.  Thank you, Donna!

It’s also interesting to see the different types of commentary that develops when Donna posts. A good deal more of the supportive sub sisterhood chatter, which is certainly endearing. I called her last night, on the way to a speaking engagement at for a local political group, and mentioned all of her supportive comments.

“You know Donna, the WC got some different types of responses when he posted that tutorial about taking a virginal ass (there is a link on the side of the page now …. It seemed more in the nature of folks raising there hands and sliding down their panties.”

Donna’s posting got some of you talking about toys, which reminded me to share this article from Salon("Busted"), describing the problems that can arise when one’s toys are misplaced.   Some cautionary, and funny tales, for all of you.

Our next bit of reportage from Donna will be about the toy she received in the mail recently from EdenFantasies.com, as part of our new “shameless pandering for free sex toys” promotion. Here is her little teaser:

“Also, the first toy for review arrived in today's mail. It was addressed to Molly (no last name) at this address. If I play my cards right we might be able to start working on evaluating the G-Spot Massager later this evening. The box also included a tote bag that has the words: "Eden Fantasy’s Sexy & Smart" in three inch hot pink and shocking green letters. I can't wait to take that one to the Bi-Lo to tote my groceries in!”

I’m sure that bag will be an interesting ice breaker in the check-out line.

Well, enough with toys….I due owe you all a brief update on my struggles to please Mistress here while the WC was on his extended holiday.  With such short notice it was impossible to recruit and screen a suitable temp personal trainer, so I just amped up my own personal devotions, even though I probably qualified for a sick leave of my own.

First, so far this week Mistress has stopped by my office for worship on three separate occasion. The efficiency of these visits has been enhanced by the end of tights season, so all it takes is sliding down her black panties, and I can be on my knees and on task.

Tuesday morning, she had an early meeting downtown, so was already being pleasured by 10 am. Such a fitting alternative to the traditional morning coffee break.

But that only kept Mistress’s needs in check for a few hours. By around three that afternoon I was receiving emails reflecting her healthy appetites:

“When do I get my cock!”

“Hopefully tonight, Mistress….”

By Tuesday evening my fever had subsided enough that I was prepared to offer up that sad cock to the task of pleasing her, but only after savoring her delicious, salty juices after another session at spinning class with our daughter.  She seemed pleased as I brought her over the edge, but saw it only as an appetizer.

“ Are you going to make love to me now, Slave…. It’s been since Sunday morning.”

I knew the quality of my performance could be in doubt, so suggested a little extra assistance.

“You may want to have me put in my device, Mistress.”

I know, that’s a little uppity of me, but I felt it could be helpful in getting me to critical mass. (Sorry, all these nuclear puns are a bit too top of mind these days).

And sure enough, with a little invasive action from behind, and the help fo Mistress’s loving lips and tongue, Slave was finally able to perform his marital duties. Mistress seemed pleased, though I was a sodden mess afterwards.

It seemed as though my efforts in bed on Tuesday night finally did break my fever. So by Wednesday morning, my “little cock that could” was quite up to the task of serving  Mistress’s needs before we headed to work.

Mistress joined me for lunch yesterday, and of course I made sure to feast on her a bit before we headed off for some nicoisse salads at a local café in downtown River City. I learned then that the WC may soon be back in action.

“I talked to him a bit this morning, Slave…. Sounds like he’s headed home this evening. He says he’s missed all the blog action.  And my sexy voice.”

I am sure he has…. And I suspect Mistress has missed him. Let’s up he is tan, ready and rested and able to pick up his share of the “burden”.

” here at UCTMW.

Our Senior Correspondent Teases Her Doctor.

(When she heard the Executive Editor was struggling to pick up the slack with our Western Correspondent MIA on the ski slopes, Donna, our Senior Correspondent stepped in with this delightful and illustrated post.)


Today I had an appointment with my psychiatrist who is helping me puzzle through some work-related issues from a few years back. I firmly believe that we of the kinky persuasion need to search out medical people we can trust with the truth, and it took several interviews with counselors and psychologists to find this fabulous doc. In the interview process I asked him point-blank about his feelings on BDSM. He said he didn’t have a problem with it, that he honestly didn’t know much about it but that he was willing to learn. He then added that whether I decided we would be working together or not, he would appreciate suggestions for reading materials. Winner!!! And Doc has been true to his word. He read the books I gave him, asked insightful questions and, because he realizes how much this lifestyle is part and parcel of my interpretation of the world, hardly a session goes by that we don’t include some talk of sexual matters. We have developed an easy, almost teasing manner that works for me.

At my visit today, Doc asked whether I had followed through on some relaxation suggestions he had made at our last visit. When I replied that I had tried some but not all, he gave me a disappointed look. So, being the smart ass that I am, I asked him whether he had followed through on the suggestion I made for him at our last meeting. He looked sheepish for a moment and then laughed and said, ”Oh, I remember, you said I should get my wife a hibachi for our anniversary.” “No.” I responded, “what I said was to get your wife an Hitachi wand. The goal is to heat things up, not set your house on fire.” He then commented that they don’t use toys. Blink-blink! WHAT?? None???

I suggested that he was pulling my leg, that surely after 25 years of marriage he and his wife must have a toy box under their bed with some sexy toys. He shook his head, said there are only dust bunnies under their bed and reminded me that he is vanilla. I was puzzled, insisting that vanillas can have toys, too. He then told me I should try harder to look a bit less saddened by the idea that he is toy-less, and said that maybe I just don’t have a clear understanding for how vanilla, vanilla really is.

So, here we have a physician with a specialty in psychiatry who has never played with a pocket rocket, a dildo, or a vibrator of any kind. I could understand that he doesn’t own a flogger, paddle or nipple clamps. And maybe a St. Andrew’s cross or sex swing might be a bit over the top, but to not even have a good dildo? I really was taken aback.

We had a lovely discussion on what Bill and I keep in our toy-boxes and what I would think a vanilla man might want to keep in his toy-box, but none of the ideas seemed to appeal to him at all.
Of course the bottom line is that as long as he and his wife are happy, that is all that matters. But, quite honestly, I was both embarrassed and enlightened to learn that I have preconceived notions about the vanillas of the world that may be just as incorrect as the ideas that some vanillas have about those of us who are kinky folks.

As I left the office, Doc smiled as he patted my shoulder and said,”Try not to feel too sad for me, Donna.” To which I replied, “I’m not sad, I’m thinking about bringing you a little starter box to my next appointment and I’m thinking about what I want to put in it.”
I swear he paled just a bit.

More Questions and Answers

Molly and Mick worked our way through a busy Monday here in River City. She had an early meeting with Surly teen II’s guidance counselor, so there was little time to linger in bed.

I ignored my cold / flu as best I could, and hunkered down at my desk, spacing out from time to time, but, so it goes.

Mistress did stop by shortly after lunch for a little personal attention. I am very mindful of my obligations to pleasure her several times each day. We are now in that odd transition from winter to spring here in River City, and since it was a warmer day, Mistress shed had foregone the black tights, but was still going with the boots. So it was easy for her simply to pull down her black undies and let me feast for a while, until her hip were bucking and her gently moan signaled another job acceptably done.

I made sure to snap a photo to text to M, off on his ski vacation, having left us here at UCTMW to pick up the slack.  My message was “back to work”.

He later responded that it seemed that I was recovering from my bought with the flu.

Mistress had planned to meet Surly teen I at a spinning class at our gym after work, so I headed home solo, planning to whip up some dinner to be ready when they got home.

Surly teen II was at home, working on her homework. She gave me a sideways glnace of acknowledgement, then cut to the chase.

“What’s for dinner….”

“Irish stew and mashed potatoes.”

“It’s 70 degrees out…. Its too warm for stew.”

Oops. I forgot to check the gastro-temperature chart before planning the evening’s menu.

“Would you prefer a salad….”

(Said sarcastically…. Surly II is not much on slads.)

“Why don’t we just eat out.”

I ignored that one, heading to the kitchen.

When Mistress got home, she still had on her workout cloths: black cotton tights and a black and turquoise tank top. The gleam of her perspiration gave her a lovely glow.

By now the stew was simmering, the potatoes were boiling and there was time for some worship.

I joined her in the bedroon, where she had “lost” the tights, exposing her clean shaven parts.

“How about some worship, Mistress.”

“But Slave, I’m all sweaty and smelly down there.”

“That’s exactly how I like you…”

Soon I was on my knees, yet again,  savoring the salty concoction after that spinning workout.

Yum. 

But I will confess that was the night’s action. I was still feverish and did not want to make Mistress endure my overly warm body during some conventional love making. Hopefully I will be back to normal tomorrow.

So in lieu of further action, let me share some answers to questions received over the last few days.

The first came by way of  the former  Kelly, she wanted to know what “hard limits” there are at UCTMW re: blood or markings when we play. 

Hate to say it, but we are kind of wimps here. Sure there are some red stripes and occasional bruises, but they usually fade away rather quickly. No blood. No hickies. We are just two gentle souls, I suppose.

And Donna, our Southern correspondent asked the following:

“Since it is still March, I wonder if I might ask you both about the aneros device. I looked it up online and it gets rave reviews.

Mick-Was it difficult to get used to inserting? And do you ever leave it in for hours at a time?

Molly-Does it change how Mick feels to you or moves in you?

Personal questions I know, but someone is sending me $5.00 for asking these question for them and in this economy...”

Well, Molly says it seems to make old Mick’s cock all the harder when the aneros us deployed, but maybe she can comment if there is something else to add.

As for me…. It took a little time for me to work up the courage to lube that sucker up and fit it in. Mistress instructed me to order it while we were still doing our commuter marriage thing, and having long and often erotic video chats in the evening.

I will confess that I did not disclose exactly when it arrived, but once she got that information out of me, she directed me to go with it.

Of course, the device has both a psychological and physical aspect when put to proper use. There is a bit of humiliation and submission tied to the act of inserting the little sucker at Mistress’s direction, which works on my head.

And there is a physical reaction when the little guy presses up against the prostate, making my cock seem to get extraordinarily hard.

But once getting over the initial hump, sliding it in and realizing that there is ample capacity there if the device is properly lubricated, it’s quite easy to get used to and accommodate.

Mistress has never required me to wear it for more than an hour or so. No trips to a bar, or dinner with the device in place…. That could be a little un-comfy, though I suspect it has been done.  And now that I’ve gotten used to it, my guess is that it would take a bit of focus to keep it from sliding out. Though I suspect that is the point, isn’t it?

I wonder if Suzanne ever requires Tammy to wear an anal plug for an extended period, or on social occassions?

Staffing Crunch at UCTMW Enterprises, LLC

UCTMW Enterprises, LLC

MEMORANDUM

FROM: Mick Collins, Executive Editor

TO: All Staff, World Wide.

RE: Unexpected Staffing Crunch

Late last week our Western Correspondent and the CEO’s personal trainer broke the news that he is talking some “personal days” this week, apparently for a little ski holiday with his clan. While we always want our staff to enjoy the personal and vacation days they accrue, we were a little surprised. After all, it seemed like it was only a week or two ago that M was off on an extended medical leave, attributed to complications arising from that whole frozen cock situation.



So the rest of us may have to do some multitasking this week to keep the vast media empire humming, and also to keep our CEO and my Mistress fully satisfied.

Of course, I will give M credit for trying to hold up his duties until he headed out for the slopes this morning.

On Friday night, Molly was staying in her grandmother’s house, in a little single bed, with her mother in a bed only a few feet away. (Imagine Ricky and Lucy, sleeping in those separate sitcom beds all those years ago.

“M was texting me, Slave… Those little salacious texts… I think he wanted me to call him so he could get me off, but there was no privacy.”

“Poor Mistress… all horny in bed, with Mom keeping an eye on you….”

“Yes, Slave it was sad….”



And I must say, I felt I came up a little lame today.

I woke up too early, and by the time Mistress was ready to take me back into her bed, well, I was feeling a little exhausted, so we deferred switch day and just had some warm and tender morning sex, followed by a restful nap.

Now Mistress wasn’t complaining. It seemed rather cold here this morning, and I think she was happy to stay under the covers, rather than get tied to the bed and cropped as I had planned for her.

“How about we do it later this afternoon, Mistress….”

“That’s perfectly fine, Slave.”

Well as the day went on we took a long double hill climb bike ride in a cold drizzle. Then I was off to the grocery for some dinner items.

But by the time I got home, it was pretty obvious that some sort of feverish cold or flu was kicking in. Mistress let me cuddle next to her in bed, and some sleep made me feel a tad better. But I was hardly up for Switch Day.

“I feel like I let you down, Mistress….”

And it seemed like I let M down too. He was texting Mistress, wanting to know what kinky rituals were unfolding here at the World HQ. Sadly, Mistress had to report “nada”.

But Mistress was understanding, patting me on the head and offering to dig up some meds for me.

It was about then that I read Suzanne’s  post today at ALL Mine, in which she whined a bit about Jay’s “horrific” cold, and its sad impact on her Saturday and Sunday orgasm count.

Now I don’t know about Jay, but I think I am a good trooper when under the weather. It may come from the influence of my Dad, a WWII vet who spent some ugly time on Okinawa in the final days of the war. He never talked about it much, but I suspect what he saw there made him rather immune to whining about conventional aches and pains. Expect when he was hospitalized once for a life threatening illness, I can’t recall him ever taking a sick day.

He expected the same from his sons. (the daughters, on the other hand got cut lots of slack). Of course, one can take this a little too far. My younger brother died at 52 after a massive heart attack, after putting off an appointment for a stress test because he was too busy at work.

Hopefully, old Mick is not that crazy. I do get an annual physical. But Suzanne’s blog did get me off the dime. I reached under the bed for the trusty power tool, and surprised Mistress when I thumbed it on.

“I may be too tuckered to deliver a hard one Mistress, but I think you deserve some Hitachi action.”

“Oh Slave….”

I think she was feeling a little sorry for her feverish Slave.

She didn’t put up an argument though as I wedged the churning tool against the juncture of her lovely thighs.

But getting back to our short staffing situation this week. I did do a little web search for a temp agency that might provide personal training services while M is off on his holiday. But they didn’t seem to offer the sort of specialized services that our WCC/PTTTCEO provides.

I hope our staff will put their heads together and let us know if you have any thoughts on how to keep our CEO pleased over the next week.

Sometimes it does take a village.

At Last.... (with musical accompaniement).

Some of you gave old Mick some serious shit yesterday for whining about our “horrid”  56 hour draught here at UCTMW World HQ.

It had been since Thursday morning …. And Mistress was not scheduled to return until 1 pm or so Saturday from her trip to visit her very old but still feisty grandmother.

Yeah... I know. I'm spoiled. But could be that just makes it worse, when Mistress and I are apart? Even if just briefly?

I dutifully kept my vow of “no touching” without Mistress’s consent, passing the time with some yard work, tax document preparation, and visiting my own cranky whiner of a mother. I tried to avoid being  the sad, lonely guy in this song.

(Hmmm…. Maybe my whining is hereditary…. Though her whining seems more to do with ambient noise in her condo, whereas mine focuses on missing my beloved CEO).

While I had a chance for a couple of brief conversations with her, Mistress was always in close proximity to her mother or grandmother while she was away, even at bedtime, so there was no opportunity for any naughty or intimate chat. I just didn't know what to do with myself.

During the course of my Saturday morning, I did receive a textual taunt:

“It’s ass fucking day. Slave….”

But finally, Mistress pulled into our drive, dropped off by her mother. I was in our backyard, gave her a wave, and briefly finished up filling a  trash bin with some of last fall’s leaves before helping her carry her overnight bag up to our room.

  

At Last…. Mistress was home.

Of course, I offered to take her to bed and lavish her with some physical attention immediately.  But it was a gorgeous, warm and sunny day here in River City.

“They’ll be time enough for that Slave…. First, a bike ride to get the kinks out after that long drive….”

“Sure… but save a few kinks for me, Mistress.”

The bike ride was glorious, but after about an hour we were back and…. Thanks to the gods… the two sulky and bored teens had decided on an outing to the outlet mall.

Amazingly the house was empty now..

We relaxed a bit…. lying in bed. I had showered to make sure I was “spanking” clean for Mistress.

“Get out my equipment, Slave…. And bring a riding crop too…”

Gulp.

I collected her harness, the accompanying dildo, and lubricant. AS she slid into it, tightening it to fit her lush body, I found the crop in the corner of our closet and handed it to her.

“Get in position, Slave….”

“But why the crop, Mistress….”

“You know why…. You were certainly less than enthused to see me this afternoon Slave….”

“But….”

“I would have expected you to rush over and greet me when I pulled in…. instead…you kept raking those leaves….”

Thwack….

“Ouch….”

I tried to minimize my offense… “I was just finishing the task so we could go upstairs together…” or some such. She would have none of it. And it turned out she also thought I was less than sweet and charming when we talked on the phone while she was gone.

"It reminded me how distant you were sometimes when we were commuting."

No, that was not good. Not at all. No wonder she was itching to apply some good punishment. Best to leech those bad vibes out of her system pronto, even at the expense of my temporary discomfort.

By now the blows were raining down. My ass was getting increasingly tenderized, and I was squirming on the bed.

“Hold still, Slave… you’re just making things worse for yourself….”

I tried. Believe me I did. But man, that crop was hurting my bony old white ass.

“My, that is getting pretty red, Slave… maybe I should take a picture….”

“Feel free, Mistress.”

I figured that she could not snap a photo and clobber me with the crop at the same time.

But, At LAst (yet again), she  was done with the crop, admiring her handywork, her hands sliding over the welts that she had created.

“Nice…. Slave…. But now, get in position for the good part….”

I settled back onto the bed, my hips under a pillow.

She straddled me, then slid her tool home….

“”How’s that, Slave…. “

“Ummmm…. Nice Mistress.”

Soon she was picking up the pace, filling me quite effectively… and working herself into that lovely frenzy that delivers a lunging, moaning climax for her.  I remember her nails digging into my back, her hot breath on my neck when she collapsed onto me, spent.

When she extracted herself, rolling off to remove her harness and deposit on the floor for me to tuck away later, she gave me some additional instructions.

“Go put in your device, Slave…”

I made sure I hopped to…. I was not going to cross her again today, and I had some business of my own to tend to….finally.

Bench Strength

I hope all of our readers enjoyed the wonderfully detailed and sexy blog from our Senior Correspondent yesterday. It was certainly a relief for your Executive Editor to know that I could feed this particular beast with some quality entertainment on Friday morning, even though I would be up late then out early, taking Surly teen #1 on a college visit.

It’s nice to have the depth of reporting and writing acumen here at UCTMW to provide cover without missing a beat when the Editor feels like being a slacker!

St. Pat’s Day here was a busy one. I was off to work early, all locked up in my cage, and Mistress was at home, with lots of pent up demand following that long 36 hours of so of sexual wasteland.

And, in case you are wondering, she did allow her dutiful Slave to fuck her Thursday morning before snapping the lock on my cage. I just wasn’t permitted to let her come, on orders of her Personal Trainer. It required a deft touch, because I could tell that Mistress was particularly horny, all amped up with the teasing she had gotten from M and me through the prior day.

I mean, requiring her to play with her little swollen clit every time she went to the loo? M, you had worked her into a frenzy.

So, when she offered to let me take my own pleasure, it seemed almost too cruel. But this Slave is weak. And writing the blog had gotten me rather needy too…. So in a moment of weakness I fully exploited the opportunity presented to me.

With the hard steel ring for my cage already in place, it probably took me a little longer than normal to get to the point where I was begging her permission. And when I exploded into her…. Well, I just hope the girls’ shower was turned on to muffle my moan.

“My goodness Slave, that must have been a good one….”

“Uhhh…. Yeahhh….”

Articulate, huh?

Later in the morning, Mistress had her “training” session with M. I’m sure she made some interesting sounds of her own. When she called me on her own drive to work she seemed pleased with herself.

“Done, Slave…..”

“And how many, Mistress?”

“At least three, Slave…. “

“And did M get to play too….”

“He did, Slave…. He seemed to enjoy himself rather well.”

So it sounded as if Mistress’s long suffering was rewarded.

Fortunately, she was able to drop by for a late ” lunch”. Naturally, there was time in my office for me to check out that green St. P Day thong she had emailed me before her date (It’s posted on Thursday blog).

(Green undies must have been the rage on Thursday. I understand that Tammy at All MIne wore some over his own cock cage when he went out for a few beers and some NCAA action with his friends).

Soon Mistress’s bright green thong was drooped around one leg, and I was on my knees, adding to Mistress’s O count for the day. She had some catching up to do.

At around 6 pm, it was time to change into my Tux for our annual gathering of the Friendly Sons. It’s an affair that is all male, but which seems in my mind to have lost its gregariousness as the years have passed Maybe the Sons are just getting too old and boring. Or the event too predictably routine. It’s not like the days when all got rowdy and smoked cigars into the night. Instead, it seems that we spend a good deal of time clapping ourselves on the back in congratulations that we lasted yet another year.

Boring.

Then again, maybe I was just anxious to get out of my cage. Sin, you may disagree, but I suspect I was the only Friendly Son with that sort of accessory hidden behind my cumberbund.

By the time I made it home, both Mistress and Slave were rather tuckered out. And I had an early departure time with our daughter.

For her part, Mistress was off with her mother to visit her aging grandmother a few hours away. It was an overnight trip

So Slave and Mistress have actually gone without sex for nearly two days as I type this.

Ouch.

I passed the time last night by making dinner for my daughter, nephew, son-in-law and two cute grandkids. Then caught some basketball. Congratulations to Suzanne and her alma mater! Good pick in that game….

Then it was off to a lonely bed. Mistress had no privacy, so there wasn’t even a chance for some smutty pre-sleep chat.

I woke with one of those nagging cock’s, and was sorely tempted to use a little self-help. But without permission, it just would not have been right.

And, quite frankly, it seems odd to be writing this blog at all, with no one up in the bed to present it to for reading while I consume her sweet juices under the covers.

Fortunately, Mistress should be home by around 1pm.

We have some catching up to do!